


a few words about a very old thimble and a piece of ribbon

by Ananasek946



Category: Alice In Wonderland - Lewis Carroll
Genre: F/M, Friendship/Love, I'm Bad At Tagging, Love, No Smut, Romance, Sad, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:48:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26131393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ananasek946/pseuds/Ananasek946
Summary: -Why is my garden made of glass and my roses are colorless?- Because memory fails when Time is merciful.
Relationships: Tarrant Hightopp/Alice Kingsleigh
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	a few words about a very old thimble and a piece of ribbon

The sea was so beautiful, it sparkled with lovely bright blue sparks, then, another shining drop of liquid fell into the water, though it was not starting to rain at all, and the sky was very clear. The solution to this simple puzzle lay higher up on the anchored merchant ship.  
Another tear dripped from the young woman's chin, clutching the side of the ship with her small, unburned hands. She was wearing a sweatshirt and captain's cap, her sack of scant belongings on the deck next to her feet. Her eyes were blurry with tears, she was breathing rapidly, trying to gasp for air with her dry mouth, chapped from the salty breeze and the harsh sun, her long, beautiful, blond hair now matted, half wet and matted with tiny crystals of salt.  
Desperate, she struggled to slow her breathing, not to succumb to the feeling of helplessness and loneliness that overwhelmed her. Eventually, after a long moment of struggle, she began to breathe a little slower, deeper.  
She sighed, trying not to choke on her own tears, lifted her wet hazel eyes, and ran the sleeve of her clothes over them.

"If only I could be where I belong."

She sighed once more, looking at the gently furrowed water.

She walked away from the stern, stepping on the creaky deck, casually wondering how she managed to reach the port - the ship, although agile as a dream was old and inadequately renovated, rotten for many years spent on the water, and in addition very damaged by the last storm, practically nothing could be salvaged if, although the deck was not full of holes, the hold was full, even of wet goods, but no, this ship was already over.

Slowly, reluctantly, she descended the ramp to dry land, she did not come back happy, but she did not want to fill this hunger, she was fed up. Her gaze fell on the coffin made of unchecked boards standing straight on the ground, she touched the lid with her hand, wanting to cry again, but she had no more strength, her eyes remained dry.

She made her way through a swarm of Londoners who looked so diverse, everyone in the crowd was different, but it didn't matter to her anymore, she continued, passing people with indefinite faces, gray as fog over the city, gliding unconsciously along the slippery cobblestones.

A little later, the neighborhood began to change and she knew she was getting close. Wandering along narrow streets, passing more tenement houses, she finally found herself in front of the building she was trying to reach. She touched with the tips of her fingers the time-gnawed walls as if trying to recall the moments of her childhood, moments from the past locked in this building, all the good and bad moments stuck in the walls of her former house. She sighed, seeing the deplorable condition of the front of the tenement house, if only she had some money to call the plasterers to patch these holes in the plaster, if she could order one, only window from the glazier to replace the red, brittle bricks clearly visible against the cream finish of the tenement house, she scratched a bit of mortar from the gap between the blocks with her fingernail, smiling half sadly, half ironically.  
She thought for a moment before turning the key in a lock that was blackened with age, with internal fear and reluctance she pressed the handle, and the door reluctantly gave way, as if for the last time dissuading her from entering the threshold.

****

His eyes grew foggy, one salty pearl found its way and rolled over his practically pale white cheek, however he quickly turned his red head, rubbing the visible sign of weakness from his face. He had stopped himself crying many times, he will stop crying again. He looked at the glass pane of the mirror with some irrational hope, and maybe it will still be of the consistency of water?  
He knew it was impossible, unreal even for him. He could barely feel the slight twinge around his heart, and one small, invisible strand of his curly red hair turned white again.  
\- Brother, come to us, we are all very happy. Tarrant's sister put her hand on his shoulder and the hatter turned with a smile on his crimson lips, holding one hand in his pocket on a piece of blue silk ribbon.

****

As she came to a table worn by dozens of elbows, she mechanically pushed the wobbly chair aside and flung her full body weight on it, ignoring the three-year-old layer of dust on the furniture.

This world was no longer her home and it had to be, she didn't feel any connection to it or even to the ocean, ah! How cruel and how perverse it was! It was the sea she loved so much, which gave her a substitute for independence from mundane matters, the same unmerciful mass of water took her mother, half of the crew and any kindness of her sister, not counting the loss of the entire load (and earnings) of SriLankan tobacco. The blow was too big, it all happened too fast, the woman lost her will to live here in such a cold, official, hostile world,she lost the fervor that sparkled so often in her hazel eyes, but she didn't lose one, utterly unreal for those who do not believe six impossible things before breakfast. She knew that there was a land where cats smile, animals speak, and time is a person, she also knew that only there was her true home.

She put her hand under her jacket, and a sad smile settled on her pale face, and for a moment she played with her fingers with a very old thimble strung on a string.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I is first time I tried writing on AO3 and first time im writing hattice so just please be kind :)  
> English isn't my native language!


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